


Walk With Me

by epicionly, Syph



Series: All the King's Men [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicionly/pseuds/epicionly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syph/pseuds/Syph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t be a twit,” she tells him, fixing him with a stare. “You know you keep looking at him like he’s hung the moon, don’t you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk With Me

He’s used to thinking about his mum and his sister before other people, first of all. It’s got a little to a lot to do with the fact that they ain’t minted, and that’s fine, they’ll make it their own way somehow. It’s not about letting go of good things in your life. It’s about the fact that Eggsy knows the difference between being selfish and the other option. You don’t get to have both.

It’s not really something you tend to brag about, yeah? Not coming in from a good life with a silver spoon in your mouth, he means. But Eggsy’s good in his own skin as he is anywhere else, and he’ll do what he can. Complaining is for when you can afford it; explaining yourself is a little different.

But Harry comes in, all posh and gentleman and kickarse, telling him of all those chances Eggsy’s taken, could’ve taken, that Eggsy’s own mates don’t even know about, who deals with Dean’s goons in minutes, like he does this all the time.

Eggsy’s still caught in between the _I don’t need you_ of the years he’d spent spinning his dad’s medal in between his fingers, caught in between disbelief at just what’s happened and just some part of him that can’t look away. Harry is _someone_ now.

Watching Harry sit down and finish his pint, Eggsy thinks that if there’s ever a sight he’s never wanted to remember more, it’s this.

\--

It feels like trust, Harry’s hand on Eggsy’s shoulder.

Eggsy doesn’t forget, and he doesn’t betray.

\--

It was gymnastics for Eggsy, at first. Something about the freedom of the bar. Makes it sound a little silly, thinking back like this, but Eggsy had been smooth knees and elbows while his bruvs had been knobbly, still a little round around the sides. The bars had been magic for him before he’d given them up.

Harry’s Kingsman, in a way, is magic too. A spy movie that blokes like Eggsy see in the films, that’s real life and it can be Eggsy’s too, that he has the potential to reach, Harry says.

Eggsy believes him.

\--

When you’ve got a group of them, people talk. The recruits share stories about their mentors, how they got into getting recommended for Kingsman. Charlie says something about his father and his connections, Digby says something about his scores in university, and Rufus mentions his familiarity with delving into stocks and taking an interest in politics. Roxy comes from a military background, and Percival’s one of her dad’s old mates, did a tour in Iraq and Afghanistan, and she stood out.

 _Harry got me out of prison_ , is too much. _I’m here ‘cos Harry said that I didn’t have to follow this route, ‘cos I have nothing to lose_ , seems too ungrateful. _Harry gave me a second chance and I don’t want to cock up_ , is too revealing. _I want to see that same look Harry gave me before, when I told him about My Fair Lady._

“Me dad was a Marine,” he says, palming the medal and slipping it up his sleeve—sleight of hand means nobody really notices. He wishes he could wear it back around his neck like he used to, but that’s bound to get questions he really doesn’t feel like answering. The medal is private; Eggsy wants to keep it that way. “Passed away when I was seven.”

“What,” Charlie digs at him, “No wonder you and your girlfriend are so close. If I had a military background like that, you reckon I’d be your taste, Roxy?”

Roxy has been growing her irritation since the beginning, and Charlie’s insensitivity is enough for make her snap. “Do you know what lesbian means, Charlie? It means that duffers like you can suck on your own cock for a change.”

A sudden silence washes over them, before Eggsy finds it in himself to clap. “Is that why you were talking with one of the techs?” Eggsy demands.

Roxy gives him a sly look, comfortable, and elbows him. “A bird doesn’t kiss and tell, Eggsy.”

\--

Kingsman teaches Eggsy how to do all the things he learned in the Marines, and then more. He’s got as much as an advantage as Roxy, who’s awfully competitive when it comes to endurance and efficiency, and even more when it comes to getting the right shot at one of the helium balloons rising in the sky from the ground when you’re free-falling from a plane. Ordinary bullets disintegrate from the velocity and gravity combined after a certain distance, Kingsman bullets don’t tend to.

Outside of physical and technical training, there’s their dog training.

“He probably thinks you’re his Alpha,” Roxy says, from where she’s sitting with Gwen on her lap and scratching affectionately behind his ears. They’ve finished the run and she’s already stripped herself of her vest and pack, and her face is matted with sweat but satisfied. “Plus, you let him sleep with you instead of the kennel because he has nightmares—of course he’ll stick by you.”

“Guess so,” Eggsy says, which isn’t going well because Eggsy has somehow managed to spoil JB into following him around leash or no, and JB is now tucked very happily into Eggsy’s vest. “But it’s fuckin’ hot today, and he whines every time I try to put him down.”

Roxy laughs, and Eggsy meanwhile is rubbing his thumb along and up and down JB’s wrinkles, making faces at him. JB just slobbers little wet kisses to Eggsy’s mouth and nose when he gets too close, and it makes Eggsy’s regret at not recognizing the difference between a bulldog and a pug go away a little more.

“Isn’t that Galahad?” Roxy asks suddenly, and Eggsy’s face whips up immediately.

Across the lawn, there’s Harry in his suit, talking lightly to Merlin. Usually, Harry doesn’t show up—that’s because he’s a full-time Kingsman agent doing his missions, and when he does, he’s usually in and out, and Eggsy always misses him by a mo. They’re looking over at the iPad Merlin’s holding in his hands, discussing something, when Harry’s eyes glance up briefly and he catches sight of Eggsy.

Eggsy is suddenly very aware of the fact he might look a sight with JB sitting in his vest like a little baby kangaroo, but all Harry does is smile.

Half-sheepish, but thrilled at the attention, Eggsy waves.  Harry gives a nod back, to Eggsy’s delight, and before turning back to the conversation at hand that Merlin looks very cross about.

Roxy has the best poker face Eggsy has ever seen when he turns back to her, and she doesn’t comment on the size of Eggsy’s smile. “If you want to wean JB off of your teets,” she says very frankly, “you should start by teaching him commands, like, _Out of the Pouch, now._ ”

“Rox, you’re being mean,” Eggsy says, but he pulls JB out of his vest, and dutifully tells his pup, “Out of the pouch, now, yeah?”

\--

“I feel like I’m with one of my girlfriends,” Roxy says, at one point.

“Which one?” Eggsy asks. “Girlfriend-girlfriend, or friend who’s a girl?”

“Don’t be a twit,” she tells him, fixing him with a stare. “You know you keep looking at him like he’s hung the moon, don’t you?”

“Hung what?” Eggsy asks, confused.

Roxy takes pity on him and changes the subject.

\--

Eggsy is staring at the report of a man he’s been given, along with several grainy paparazzi shots and a bunch of professional quality photos. When he glances over his shoulder to see Roxy’s, she slips them back into her envelope, elbowing him crossly, and pointing at the large EYES ONLY printed on his own.

“These assignments will work on a cumulative basis,” Merlin says, striding in front of them. “We recognize that not all of you may be exceptional from the start, which is what practical experience is for.” He stops. “A Kingsman agent has kindly agreed to oversee this part of your training.”

They turn to where he gestures.

“Elyan reporting,” the agent says primly, not even a flick of her hijab out of place from her bespoke suit. Eggsy hasn’t seen what Kingsman agents look like asides from Harry because they hardly pass by the recruit bunker or training grounds, but she adjusts glasses that look like a carbon copy of Harry’s, and stands just as elegantly at ease as he does. “It’ll be a pleasure, I’m sure. For some of you, it won’t.”

Roxy, Eggsy has noticed, is standing even straighter than before, features set into a determined expression.

“Throughout your training, you have learned how to make use of your environment, your resources, and your wits. We will put this in the field.” Elyan takes the iPad from Merlin, who disappears without another word. She slides her fingers deftly and brings up a report template and its filled equivalent on screen. “Some missions deal with black bag jobs—sneaking into a restricted area and stealing or copying materials.”

Another report. “Others,” she continues, “will perhaps require you to spread black propaganda, or to plant false information. Know that if you are compromised in these situations, rescuing you will not often be the primary objective, if at all. Of course,” she smiles, allowing some cheery warmth into her voice,  “that won’t be the case here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees several of the other trainees shift nervously.

Elyan has continued.  “You’ve each been given a target, whom you will follow and keep under surveillance. You will record who they speak to, what they do, and you will keep minutes of this in your report, and use your best judgment to prioritize what is significant. Your final report, in essence, is to create a profile of your target for me.” She pauses, and folds her hands behind her back. “Starting today, you have one week. And if your profile is insufficient, know that you _will_ be sent home. Dismissed.”

\--

Eggsy’s target is a young posh bloke by the name of Edgar Poe, which is kind of the funniest name he’s come across in this generation. Roxy disappears as soon as Elyan leaves, likely determined to impress, just like the rest. Eggsy dawdles a bit, wondering how on earth he’s supposed to track down Edgar Allen Poe’s descendant and steal his diary if he ain’t got a car. Says here he lives all the way out in countryside, and Eggsy hasn’t travelled out of London except when he left to try his hand at the military.

“Eggsy.”

Eggsy’s head snaps up, and his face lights up. “Har—Galahad,” he corrects. The last time he called Harry by his name in front of Merlin, he could’ve sworn the bloke was going to blow a gasket. Harry, for his part, looks undisturbed by it. “You looking for Merlin?”

To his surprise, Harry shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, I was looking for you. Walk with me.”

Eggsy would walk anywhere with him, so that’s not even a problem there. “Yeah, what do you want?”

Turns out that Harry’s headed for a bit of a side-trip somewhere down in the inner-London. He’s unfamiliar with the area outside of the tailor shop, wants to know more about the local pubs and hangouts, if Eggsy’s willing to tell him more about them.

“‘Course, yeah,” Eggsy says immediately, feeling chagrined that Harry would think he’d deny him anything. “I’ll stick by you if you want, too. Some of the blokes ain’t too chipper ’bout a gent like you walking around.”

“No, I believe I’ll be quite alright,” Harry reassures him. “Merlin has informed me that Elyan’s in charge of your assignment.”

It isn’t good at all that Harry seems a bit concerned. “You know her?”

“It’s a safe bet to say I’ve worked with her. You’ve a rather nasty surveillance period ahead of you.” Then, Harry smiles. “Good luck to you, Eggsy.”

Fuckin’ really, it’d be hard for Eggsy to fail this one after that, yeah?

\--

Harry starts visiting more often after the Poe assignment. Even if it is a quick word or a smile, or a passing hello in the hallway, he’ll always finds some way to make time for Eggsy.

Eggsy clutches onto those visits like a lifeline, mostly because even though he’s doing well in his classes and assignments and training and Roxy’s aces, there are times when he still feels out of place because he ain’t no posh bloke himself; he’s just Eggsy. It can be just a night at the pub for a pint, and Harry asking on his progress, or Eggsy asking Harry if can show him how he would’ve solved one of the problems. Harry’s what keeps reminding Eggsy why he’s here.

Harry’s fond of anecdotes. Eggsy, personally, is fond of watching the way Harry’s face grows contemplative when he’s remembering about his own experiences as a recruit, the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips, the flattered expression he always seems to get when Eggsy asks him more questions.

“Bloody favouritism,” Charlie grumbles under his breath to the other recruits, one night after Eggsy’s been out with Harry, but Eggsy just ignores him, because far as Eggsy knows, Roxy’s Percival and Rufus’s Tristan stop by to check on them a few times a month too.

The first year passes by in no time at all. JB’s growing up and can run just as well as any of them, which means Gwen now has a running buddy. Eggsy’s doing well on the tests, especially when he and Roxy put their heads together to predict what’ll be on the next one, and they’ve both got a sizable amount of passed assignments under their belt.

They’ve lost three more recruit members since then, but the bunker keeps the same amount of beds.

Eventually, the Kingsman agents start showing up officially and unannounced to check on their progress. Harry appears whenever Eggsy and JB are hanging out with Roxy and Gwen, or whenever Eggsy’s in the middle of some training; he’s got really good timing that way.

Harry’s eyes aren’t usually hard to read, but he’s different than Roxy, who shows it in how her jaw clenches or the small tug of a smile that has her grinning and laughing. Under his observation, the nerves about fucking up his chances and the fears that put him on the edge go away. Harry just being there makes Eggsy feel unstoppable, like he wants to show Harry all the things he’s learned to do.

Roxy has noticed it too. “Oi,” she says, having adapted some of his language into hers, and nudges him with the butt of her sniper rifle. “Quit showing off and let me have a go at the target now, yeah? Save that for your honeymoon.”

\--

End of second year, that’s when the remaining recruits get placed on an assignment with the agent that recommended them. It’s a simple enough mission, Merlin tells them both, but Eggsy can’t help but sneak glances at Harry, who’s wearing the same suit that he was the first day Eggsy met him.

Eggsy really should’ve been paying attention. Not even five minutes into the assignment, he and Harry get compromised because Eggsy cocked up the hand password. Harry doesn’t yell—instead, he’s already pulling Eggsy out of the room, and they’re running.

The suits are bullet proof, Eggsy reminds himself—or at least, Harry’s is. Kingsman agents go out with bespoke suits, but for the trainees, there’s just regular ones. Harry pushes him forward as they round a corner, and Eggsy spies an open closet door before he reaches out for Harry’s wrist and pulls him in with him, shutting the door quickly.

They’re caught in a tight space and they’re practically breathing each other’s air. Proximity’s too close; Eggsy can see the light strands of grey at the roots of Harry’s mussed hair, the way Harry’s glasses are somewhat off-kilter. Makes him look somewhat more real, but thing is, Harry’s looking at him, and he’s not saying nothing, and Eggsy’s close enough, pressed to his chest that he can feel his own heart pounding in his throat from the run.

It’s too hot in here and Eggsy can’t breathe.

Eggsy tucks his chin in, ‘cause he can’t think straight for a mo, but his forehead ends up touching Harry’s collar, and his head, Harry’s neck. Though his ears burn, he tries to listen for their pursuers, hoping fervently they don’t find them; two well-dressed posh blokes in a closet is suspicious enough.

Harry’s exhaling against his ear, and Eggsy realizes suddenly that he _wants_ Harry, outside of making Harry proud of him, the approval, the fond looks. The want conflicts itself with the cold, ugly realisation that the reason they’re not fulfilling the primary objective of the mission is because of Eggsy. Eventually, there’s nothing but dread, even as Harry leans forward, briefly, to check if it’s clear, Eggsy's back pressed against the door.

“That was close, yeah?” Eggsy manages to ask, once they’re out. Harry is straightening his cuffs, and Eggsy's throat closes up, eyes rapt on the motion, stomach clenching tightly. He’s fucked up and he has no idea what to expect.

“Quite,” Harry says, and Eggsy tenses. He gives Eggsy an assessing look all the same, before he passes his attention back to his umbrella—rainmaker, Eggsy’s mind corrects, trying to. To. “Shall we?”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Eggsy blurts out, and he’s shite, he’s crap, he’s messed this up.

Harry stills and looks at him again. “Eggsy.” His voice is firm, but it’s level. “You’ll need to be careful,” is all he says, with a slow sigh, taking off his glasses for a moment before he wipes them clean and sets them back on his face.

“Sir,” Eggsy says automatically, and Harry’s eyebrows furrow.

“Eggsy,” he says again, this time gentler. “You understand that however the mission has gone, we still have an objective that can be accomplished if we move now.” He steps closer, and Eggsy almost flinches, except Harry’s hand is careful, weighted, and presses on Eggsy’s shoulder.

It’s not brief, the touch. It stays there longer than it did back in the pub, and doesn’t lift until Eggsy looks Harry in the eye.

That’s right, Eggsy remembers suddenly. He’s not Dean. He’s Harry, and it’s—Eggsy’s spent his first two years worrying about Harry changing his mind, but it’s Harry, Harry who keeps tabs on him all the time, offers advice or suggestions for different disciplines when Eggsy’s a bit stuck.

“I do need you to help me finish this, Eggsy,” Harry is saying. “Could you do that for me?”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Eggsy says again, softer, and Harry offers him a small smile that alleviates the sick feeling. “And.” He swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, I can.”

 \--

It feels like trust, Harry’s hand on Eggsy’s shoulder.

Eggsy doesn’t forget, and he doesn’t betray.

**Author's Note:**

> Collaboration, go!
> 
> Come pester us at : [Syph's Tumblr](http://boootycreed.tumblr.com) and [Chris's Tumblr](http://dohegotthebootycreed.tumblr.com)!


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